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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26816650">Clot</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/seungshibari/pseuds/seungshibari'>seungshibari</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Stray Kids (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - After College/University, Betrayal, Blood and Injury, Castration, Deception, Dental Trauma, Gore, Head Injury, Horror, Kidnapping, M/M, Manipulation, Medical School, Pain, Red Rooms, Sadism, Strangulation, Tooth Pulling, Torture, hand trauma</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 09:40:44</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>9,615</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26816650</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/seungshibari/pseuds/seungshibari</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Felix was the medium through which violence moved, and when things were done, they were done. </p><p>He was a storyteller who told each story exactly once. </p><p>It was time to tell. The scene began. Chan had finally woken up, and he was situated on a stage with an invisible audience. “Felix,” Chan murmured. “Felix.” The mics weren’t high-quality enough to pick up Chan’s whispers, but he didn’t know that he was performing yet.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Bang Chan/Lee Felix</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>77</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Stray Kids SpookFest</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. In this life & the next</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Please read the tags!</p><p>Written to fulfill prompt 35 for SKZ SpookFest: ""Character A wakes up in a room they do not recognize, restrained, gagged, and in only the company of Character B and a series of cameras live streaming his terror across the web."</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> “At the end of my suffering, there was a door.”  </em>
</p><p>Louise Glück </p><p>
  <em> “Something I don’t understand about myself makes people want to hurt me.” </em>
</p><p>Jenny Molberg </p><p>Chan wasn’t totally sure where the money was coming from, but since Felix was happy all of a sudden, he didn’t think much of it. Felix was beautiful, unassuming, down-to-earth. He deserved to be content, more than anyone else Chan knew. Peering over the top of his study guide, Chan glanced at Felix’s face. </p><p>Weirdly enough, the dark crescents under Felix’s eyes made him even more handsome. It was like a physical manifestation of his diligence. His commitment to school, his long days spent in the sepia light of the library. His nights talking Chan through a rough phone call with his father or a mind-numbing headache. Chan wasn’t sure how someone so delicate could feel so sturdy, so unshakeable. </p><p>“What are you doing?” Felix shut his leatherbound planner and grinned up at Chan. He’d been caught. Felix smiled a lot more these days, his pink lips curling up like rose petals. </p><p>“Just thinking,” Chan responded. He shifted his eyes back to the revoltingly detailed diagram of a cock on the second page of the packet. He thought about Felix way more often than he’d ever admit, mostly about their respective futures and if they’d go parallel or intertwine with each other. Aside from that - the sad stuff - he thought about kissing Felix. </p><p>At parties, he’d seen Felix kiss other people. Chan could tell that he wasn’t compatible with any of them, but shots of Rumchata out of a frying pan had the capacity to change opinions. Everyone looked hotter under the lens of liquor. </p><p>Felix seemed like a good kisser: receptive but aggressive. When he watched Felix slot his mouth with Seungmin's, he felt a pang of jealousy. Seungmin was Chan's tutor. That fact made things a hell of a lot worse. Chan briefly imagined that Felix was trying to make him envious, but dismissed the idea and instead watched them with hooded eyes, cringing when Felix and Seungmin pulled apart. There was a glistening string of spit connecting them. </p><p>In the moment that it snapped, Chan sucked a breath in. It whistled emptily through the gap in his teeth. He left the party and puked in the Uber. It had been a while since he had experienced resentment like that. Thinking that he could lay claim on someone that he hadn’t even held hands with was a different flavor of pathetic. </p><p>Felix made everyone feel exceptional. He had a host of cool friends, each of whom he could recall little details about. Minho’s favorite hiking spots, Jisung’s allergies. He could see <em> inside </em> of Chan, though. Chan made it easy for him. He loved to overshare, not because he valued transparency, but because he wanted to feel seen. </p><p>He felt understood by Felix, despite the two of them having little in common. Chan was in medical school because he felt like that was what he was supposed to do. It was an expectation placed on him by his well-off family. He wasn’t even very good at all of it, but upon his parents’ insistence, he powered through and somehow made it past undergrad. His desire to please his father was greater than his dislike of the field. </p><p>Felix, though, seemed like a natural prodigy. He had a genuine interest in medicine that showed in the way he interacted with patients. Efficient and thoughtful, his empathy and memory served him well in the context of stressful circumstances. In situations where Chan would clam up and get squeamish, Felix would simply narrow his eyes and go back in with the scalpel. He was also unlike Chan in the fact that he was bogged down by debt that got larger every year. </p><p>Money was the only thing Felix really struggled with, and it seemed like he’d solved that problem, too, given the way he had begun to <em> gently </em> decline Chan’s offers to chip in on Felix’s tuition payments. In the early days, Felix would respond with passive-aggression. He’d stalk away from the library table or sneak out of the line at the coffee shop and ignore Chan for a few days. </p><p>It never really occurred to Chan that his actions could be perceived as offensive. He genuinely believed he was doing something kind. If anyone deserved to succeed, Chan thought, it was Felix. He recalled the first time he’d tried: </p><p>“I just want to help you,” Chan had insisted, pulling his card out of the chip reader and flashing the cashier a smile before walking with Felix to the pickup counter. </p><p>“If you actually wanted to help me, you’d leave me alone and work on yourself.” </p><p>Felix had instantly turned on his heel, leaving Starbucks with an irritated sigh. </p><p>Chan had left Starbucks with two iced soy caramel macchiatos sweating in his hands.</p><p>Things were better now, though, especially since Felix’s moods had stabilized. They’d started going back to each other’s apartments. Back to each other, in general. Felix would regularly head to Chan’s after his clinical rotation. Today was the same. </p><p>Chan heard Felix’s old bike clatter against the concrete porch. He tried to relax his posture, melting into the ratty couch that his roommate, Jisung, insisted that they keep around for the purpose of “nostalgia”. After pushing the creaky screen door open, Felix gave a cheerful “hi” and immediately shed his scrubs, heading towards the shower. Chan nodded casually to acknowledge his entry before looking down at his hands, sorting through the stains on the sofa. He tried to remind himself to avoid saying some dumb shit that would mess everything up all over again. </p><p>Felix exited the bathroom with a towel slung low around his waist and the scent of Chan’s shampoo clinging to his wet, disheveled hair. To Chan, this was an intimate routine, watching Felix emerge from the steam like some sort of porcelain cryptid. A melting ice sculpture, little rivulets of water dipping below the upper seam of the soaked - no. </p><p>Chan knew that Felix would never want <em> that </em>. To play house with him. </p><p>But it was nice to pretend. </p><p>“Are you ever going to tell me where you work?” </p><p>An emotional flashbang. </p><p>“Are you ever going to tell <em> me </em> where <em> you </em> work?” </p><p>“I don’t work anywhere right now.” </p><p>“Exactly, so it’s none of your business.” </p><p>And life went on after this: days bled into each other and Chan’s feelings flashed in and out of repose. </p><p>And Chan tried to keep his mouth shut, he bit his lips till they flaked raw. And he tried. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Felix’s birthday was days in the future, only made real by Chan when he scribbled it into his crowded planner. His romantic worldview always emerged from hibernation around this time of year, which only made the situation more dangerous. He mulled over gift ideas for an inordinate amount of time - impractical cufflinks, a mahogany leather journal. He scrapped all of these thoughts in favor of something that felt more tangible and corporeal. </p><p>Something that would last, unbroken. </p><p>An anomalous object - a proud knife finished off with a lace agate gemstone handle, and Felix’s name engraved in a delicate cursive scrawled over the body of the blade. </p><p>“Um… Thank you, Chan.” Felix turned the knife over in his hand. Its gleam was beyond lifelike, the light sliding off its dull edge and onto Felix’s lap. </p><p>“I just thought - you could use it to - to protect yourself,” Chan offered, rubbing his hands together nervously as Felix continued to examine the artisan weapon. </p><p>Felix frowned. “Do you think I’m someone - <em> something </em> - that needs to be protected?”</p><p>He didn’t reply, only waited for Felix to fill the space. For once. </p><p>Nothing ever mattered less - nothing ever mattered <em> more </em> than when Felix’s hand twitched towards Chan and then away from him. An inverse flinch. He tucked the slim knife into his palm. A knife like a secret. A knife like a promise. </p><p>“Thanks, Chan.” </p><p>Felix accepted it. He would be safe now. He could defend himself. If Chan were able to, he’d give Felix - </p><p>A crow slammed into the window of the apartment. Its crumpled, nightblack body slid down the glass. Felix’s knife fell next, with more grace, slipping from his grasp and leaving a gentle, winking dent in the aging hardwood. “It must’ve thought it could get through,” Felix murmured. </p><p>“Yeah,” Chan trailed off. To him, the bird's death felt more like a thoughtless interruption of his gesture than anything else. Felix padded closer to the window to peer down at the fringe of dry grass below it, the crow’s grave. Close behind, Chan leaned down to snatch the knife off of the floor. He paused just behind Felix, and, holding his breath, carefully placed the retrieved gift back into his friend’s fingers. </p><p>Felix sniffled, once, twice. The bird went limp.</p><p>Chan suddenly wished that he had held Felix’s empty hand, as opposed to filling it with the knife. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Felix carefully plucked Punnett out of his spacious enclosure, coddling the rabbit in the basket of his freckled arms. </p><p>“How can you look at this guy and still want to eat meat?” Felix murmured as he pet Punnett’s soft fur, peach skin against an orange pelt. Chan thought about it, for the first time, really. The pain animals went through for the benefit of people. He didn’t like to ponder weakness, hurt, or death. From adolescence, he had cultivated the valuable gift of cognitive dissonance. His grandma passed away at the whim of a particularly aggressive cancer. </p><p>During the funeral, he counted the dull stripes on his dress pants and pictured himself weaving between them, a series of iron bars. It wasn’t intense enough of a feeling for him to call it dissociation. It was more like a sustained derivative of imagination, separating himself from the situation, driving a transparent wedge between himself and tragedy so he could watch from a safe distance. </p><p>Someday, he would sort through the death of his grandmother. His grandmother loved meat. She was also a mean, brusque woman and Chan’s recollection of her was a sepia-tinted montage set to the soundtrack of harsh criticisms of his posture, his shoes, him. Felix’s antonym.</p><p>“Chan?” Felix lifted Punnett in front of Chan’s face, the bunny’s nose twitching and his whiskers tickling Chan’s cheeks. “Are you okay?” And the world regained its color. Felix had that effect on things. He gently placed Punnett into Chan’s trusting hands. “Here, I’m going to make dinner. Do you still have those black bean burgers in the fridge?” Chan nodded, his fingers inadvertently digging into Punnett’s squishy side. </p><p>Rising softly to his feet, Felix walked towards the kitchen, humming to himself, leaving Chan folded up on the floor with a petite rabbit cradled in his palms. Punnett’s shiny eyes fluttered a little too fast. Rabbits must have been able to sense nerves or something. Just beneath Punnett’s fur, Chan felt the rabbit’s little body whir with energy, an anxious machine. </p><p>“Chan?”</p><p>“Yeah?” Chan’s voice bellowed - and it urged Punnett to leap away. He bolted back to his little pen. The rabbit seemed to stare and blink, even after he’d returned to the safety of his hutch. Chan felt like he had done something terribly wrong. </p><p>Felix’s head peeked around the corner and he squinted from Chan to Punnett, cocking his head as he formed his shy request: “Chan, can I… can I borrow your notes for epidemiology?” </p><p>“Yeah - yeah. Yeah, of course! Let me get them for you, I just have to run out to the car,” Chan stuttered, pulling his keys from the coffee table and jogging out the door. He nearly tripped off of the concrete porch on his way out. He hoped Felix giggled at that. Felix had a way of transfiguring his insecurities. To Felix, Chan wasn’t clumsy, he was enthusiastic.</p><p>And Felix wanted to borrow Chan’s notes. Maybe he wasn’t nearly as incompetent as he thought he was, if Felix wanted his help in one of their most demanding courses. He unlocked his car door and began to forage through the piles of paper that he kept in his backseat. Thankfully, this week’s epidemiology notes were near the top of the stack, with his handwriting strewn wide across the pages like the lines on a heart rate monitor.</p><p>Walking briskly back into the apartment, Chan glanced at Punnett for a few seconds, and then continued forward to plop the thick packet of papers onto the kitchen counter. Felix was eyeing the two sad patties as they whirled around in the microwave. “You’re a lifesaver,” Felix insisted, turning away from their burgers to wrap Chan in a warm hug. </p><p>“Sit down, let me get the plates,” Chan urged, pointing towards the dining room and its host of mismatched chairs. Smiling, Felix obeyed. </p><p>When Chan returned with their simple dinners, Felix was toying with the frayed edge of the tie-dye tablecloth Jisung had picked out last summer. “What’s wrong?” Chan slid Felix’s plate to him, letting his own hands fall into his lap as he waited for Felix to fess up.</p><p>“I want to tell you what I do for work.” Felix took an unusually deep breath and opened his mouth to speak.  </p><p>“Felix, are you a dealer? ‘Cause it’s okay if you are, I won’t judge you for that -” </p><p>“No, Chan, no, I do - I do... cam work.” </p><p>Oh. Cam work? </p><p>“Oh! That’s, um, interesting!” Chan stared straight ahead for a moment and then took an enormous bite out of his veggie burger, stuffing his mouth with fake meat to shut himself up. Felix would make a good cam boy. He’d make a good muse. A good partner. Chan’s fantasies were a fractal, he could zoom in closer, and closer, but they didn’t change. Ever.</p><p>Sometimes, Chan was worried that the Felix he conjured in his head was better than the Felix that sat in front of him. He could <em> make </em> the Felix in his head love him in return. That was a dark, boiling thought that never entirely evaporated - this desire to control him, to <em> have </em>him. It was dirty and wrong. </p><p>“So you don’t think it’s weird?” Felix’s low, soothing murmur pulled Chan back out. He tapped the table once with a soft thud and Chan’s head finally jerked up. What would happen if Chan said he thought it was weird? Would Felix try to repair his reputation, or something? </p><p>“No, not at all, I’m just glad that you’re happy!” Chan was excessively jovial. He shoved the burger back between his dry lips. He smiled at Felix. He wondered just how many people had watched Felix’s lithe, nude body stretch across their screens. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Tunneling into his comforter to snatch his phone, he quickly entered his passcode and opened his browser. <em>Cam work</em>, he Googled hastily. Then <em>Cam boys.</em> <em>Cam boy with freckles.</em> <em>Cam boy POV. </em>The tabs stacked up, with colorful new windows blossoming above them - targeted ads, <em>hot boys for you</em>, <em>teen hotties</em>. Images of shirtless twinks were razed into his mind, none of them Felix. There was no Felix, only a synthesis of skin and sex in his place. </p><p>Chan felt nothing when he jerked off to the nondescript camboy he’d singled out from the herd.  </p><p>When Chan fell asleep, he replayed that scene from his childhood, with the deer in the street. He thought about how its flanks heaved, how its brave eyes were rendered dull and lazy. How its antlers were crushed, bony origami. </p><p>He pictured the way that things looked when they were timidly inhabiting the space between life and death. Their heavenly twitch. Then, he was out. </p><p>Around 3:23, Chan woke up from a nightmare. In it, he’d been speared on the horn of a shadowy creature. It carried him around for miles, rearing its head, showing off its catch. </p><p>When Chan had finally fallen off of the beast that had pierced his body, he looked down at the gash in his chest. He could see right through his puncture wound.</p><p>There was no gore or carnage; only a pristine circle engraved in his torso. </p>
<hr/><p>“What’re you doing, Sung?” </p><p>Felix perched himself behind Jisung, haloed by afternoon light. His hand rested calmly on the sleeve of Jisung’s crusty hoodie while he peered inquisitively at the claustrophobic screen: text, columns and colors at war with each other within a vast gray box. </p><p>Chan answered on his roommate’s behalf, barely looking up from the blender he was fiddling with: “He’s producing.” </p><p>Irritated, Jisung glared over his shoulder. “I can speak too, jackass. It’s called Ableton. It’s a type of production software.” Felix let his chin drop and rest on Jisung’s shoulder. </p><p>“Yeah,” Chan continued, “and I introduced him to it, so let me know if you have any questions.” </p><p>Jisung dragged his cursor down, beginning to explain what the digital dials symbolized. Chan pressed the lid of the blender, attempting to dissolve the impromptu lesson. “Why are you being such a DICK!” Jisung yelled over the din. He stomped towards the kitchen counter and yanked the blender’s cord from the electric socket, poking Chan with the plug’s prongs for emphasis: “Can you just go on your run already and let us <em> breathe?”  </em></p><p>Then, under his breath, Jisung delivered the final blow. “You’re suffocating him.” </p><p>Closing his eyes, Chan pulled away from Jisung’s accusation. “Okay. Felix, are you still sleeping over tonight?” Felix’s body had sunken in. His ‘yes’ was deflated, but audible, which Chan accepted. He left quietly, but listened carefully as he pulled his Nikes on in the doorway. If they didn’t want him to eavesdrop, they would’ve spoken more discreetly. </p><p>“Sorry about him.” Jisung’s consolation was earnest. </p><p>“You don’t have to say that. I know him.” </p><p>The words Felix chose assembled themselves into a cryptogram - ‘he <em> knows </em>Chan’. </p><p>“Yeah, I know him, too.” Jisung’s snorted, “that’s the problem. So, you said you wanna learn how to do voice mod?” </p><p>Chan slammed the door behind him. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Chan stayed awake for a while that night, listening to the raindrops as they leaked through the thin ceiling and struck the bottoms of the pots cluttering Felix’s carpet. Chan wondered if he could repair the roof himself. That probably wouldn’t make Felix mad. No money involved, just a simple favor from one friend to another. Maybe he could fix it shirtless or something. </p><p>Felix’s breath was nearly in sync with the low, gusty winds that were battering the apartment’s exterior. He must have been having a nightmare. Chan felt bad for watching him struggle. </p><p>Around 3AM, the storm knocked the power out. Chan turned on his phone flashlight and waved it around the room. Caught in the white glare, Felix’s face looked like it was carved from old ivory. </p><p>“Let’s just go back to bed,” Felix murmured. Chan locked his phone and tossed it to the floor unceremoniously. Once again, they were shrouded in the dark fabric of night. Even in the pitch-black room, Chan could assemble Felix from memory. He could visually connect the parts of his delicate sparrow body and lay it out on the sunken mattress. This was something he did often in his dreams. </p><p>Chan wanted to orphan these feelings, to leave them somewhere no one would ever find them. He rolled over and waited for the grisly hands of sleep to dunk him under. </p><p>In another life.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Chan felt endlessly honored to watch Felix’s 7AM revival, his morning renaissance. </p><p>Felix pushed his hair from his forehead and smiled. Dawn with Felix was precious, because it was something only Chan got to see, an experience he could wall in and claim. It was a ritual unsoiled by Jisung’s noise or Seungmin’s smirk. Sometimes, he felt invasive - watching Felix’s lids flutter, his vulnerability. His chest rose and fell; Chan could almost see his ribs, hidden one layer beneath his soft skin. He unfurled. Bloomed. </p><p>“Are you watching me?” Felix opened one eye and squinted it at Chan. Immediately, Chan fumbled for his phone, trying to make himself look busy. </p><p>“No way,” Chan murmured, showing his screen as proof that he’d been focused on something besides the curvature of Felix’s lips. </p><p>“That’s the calculator app.” Felix didn’t sound mad; instead, his voice lilted with amusement. Chan was saved. Safe, even. Still, he damned himself for thinking he could watch without getting caught. He hadn’t even been inconspicuous about it</p><p>Rolling out of bed, Felix grabbed one of Chan’s sweatshirts off of his desk chair and yanked it over his head. “We gotta get to campus, dude. Practical and then the final?” Chan did his best not to stare at the way his hoodie swallowed Felix’s hummingbird body, but he was already out of the room, already on his way to Chan’s car, eclipsed by his oversized backpack. </p><p>“Bye, Punnett! Bye, Chan!” Felix was still joyous and light, so Chan hadn’t fucked up.  </p><p>He let go of a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Chan loved every version of Felix that he knew, but the one that had buried itself in his brain was Felix as a surgeon. With his unfettered practicality, Felix was the most accurate and precise worker in the room. His eyes would narrow, but they’d stay soft as cashmere. He was an angel, maybe, who bled through other people’s wounds. </p><p>Felix saw things in blood that Chan didn’t, that he couldn’t. </p><p>So, Chan would watch and try to understand. His insides would rebel as he watched Felix sort through layers of skin, his attention dedicated entirely to the folds and flaps. The flesh he was organizing. If Felix wasn’t an angel, he was a benevolent God of symmetry and survival, his scrubs glowing under the ugly fluorescent light as he knit someone back together. His sutures were so uniform they looked like train tracks. </p><p>Today’s clinical was no different, Felix a phantom in mint-green moving through the room with unmatched speed and grace. “Forceps,” Felix ordered, and Chan snatched them, pressing the tool into Felix’s expert fingers before standing back and watching him pull and snip and craft. </p><p>And then it was over, and Felix was removing his gloves, and his smile was back as he sanitized his big shiny tools. He changed out of his scrubs and back into Chan’s hoodie. </p><p>Back to mortality. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Chan had forgotten to get his papers back from Felix, so the second he sat down for the exam, he knew it was going to be rough. </p><p>All of the words were too long, concepts nested in concepts. </p><p>He looked at Felix - who was speeding through the questions with certain ease - and smiled to himself. </p><p>At least his notes had helped Felix. </p><p>“D’you wanna get drunk?’ Felix rolled over onto his back, running his fingers through his hair as he stared up at the sky. He was sprawled out on the lawn in front of the library while Chan anxiously refreshed their school site to see if his score had been posted. “Chan! I said, do you wanna get drunk? We can go to Jeongin’s!”</p><p>Chan turned to look at Felix. Late afternoon light poured over Felix like marmalade; his head was crowned with clovers. </p><p>“It’ll make you feel better,” Felix teased, sounding like a character in one of those corny ads that warned kids about the pitfalls of peer pressure. Chan was comically susceptible to peer pressure, even more so with Felix as its mouthpiece. </p><p>Instantly, Chan nodded, and Felix rose out of his cocoon of grass and smiled brightly. “Can we stop at your apartment first? And can I borrow one of your shirts? I got this one all covered in grass.” </p><p>Chan would rather crawl through broken glass than say no to Felix. Again, Chan nodded, his smile spreading wider as he pictured the fuzzy outline of the night ahead: booze and dozing off on Felix’s narrow shoulder. And probably karaoke. Jeongin always made them do karaoke. </p><p>“Yeah, of course, dude.” <em> Dude? </em> “I think I’ve got some rum in there somewhere. Don’t wanna show up empty-handed.” </p><p>“Yeah,” Felix giggled, “dude.” </p><p>Felix’s little fingers crept across the space between him, crossing an invisible border, and came to rest on Chan’s knee. “Don’t freak out about the test. You’ve got this.” Chan’s incessant worry faded into warmth. The yolk of the sun melted into butterscotch. </p><p>“Is Seungmin gonna be there?” Chan did his best to camouflage his distaste. His day had been taxing enough with the near-impossible test. The thought of Felix swapping spit with Seungmin while Jeongin sang along to Love Battery in the background sounded like the fourth level of hell. </p><p>“No, he’s busy tonight,” Felix replied, pulling one of Chan’s shirts off its hanger. “I’m gonna change in the kitchen, I’ll be right back.” </p><p>No Seungmin. That meant Chan could get even closer to Felix. He could watch the way his teeth gleamed when he laughed. He could see the blush cascade down his body as he got progressively drunker. Maybe Chan could finally feel him. </p><p>Felix barged back into the room with a quarter-empty bottle of Gatorade. “Electrolytes,” he murmured with feigned seriousness, “you need ‘em more than I do.” Chan laughed and accepted the bottle, taking a big gulp. </p><p>“You’re sweet,” Chan observed. </p><p>“That’s what <em> you </em> think,” Felix joked back, “let’s <em> gooo </em>.” He tugged Chan’s wrist and pulled him towards the door. Unquestioningly, Chan let himself be taken. </p><p>“Ugh, fuck, wait, I left my bag in your room.” Felix left Chan standing still, dumb on the doormat as he rushed back into the apartment. </p><p>Something spiraled in his stomach, he couldn’t identify it, but he named it joy. Nerves helixing out. He rested his hand against the doorknob. “Okay, got it,” Felix returned with cheer, his canvas tote in the crook of his arm. </p><p>And so their walk began. As they rounded the block, the wavy feeling in Chan’s belly intensified. “Lix, I don’t feel well,” Chan confessed, stumbling over a crack in the asphalt. </p><p>“Hey, it’s okay, we’re almost there. You can lay down when we get to Jeongin’s. You’re probably just dehydrated.” Felix’s tone was soothing, so Chan obeyed the implied order and took another sip of the Gatorade that Felix insisted that he finish. He barely felt the liquid slosh into his mouth. </p><p>“Seriously, Lix.” His tongue was too heavy. </p><p>And then, the street was pure fog, only permeated by the yellow-eyed cars and Felix’s clear voice. “You’re okay,” Felix insisted. “You’re okay.” He kept repeating it. Soon, a chorus of Felixes appeared in Chan’s field of vision, a host of them. Every duplication of his guardian angel in one place, a thousand carbon copies of perfection. </p><p>“You’re safe.” </p><p>It was so dark outside. Who would protect Felix if Chan couldn’t? </p><p>Chan’s lead-laden body smashed into a telephone pole, threatening to shatter. Felix jogged to catch up, grabbing Chan’s bicep to prop him back up and help him walk. </p><p>“Holy shit, are you okay? Chan?”</p><p>Chan’s head was stuffed with cotton as he stumbled through the parking lot that the two of them had pulled into. Felix’s grip kept him from floating away into the two-dimensional treeline. He wasn’t sure where they were anymore, but Felix would take care of him. Felix had him. The bottle of Gatorade slipped from Chan’s palm in slow motion, but it hit the concrete at hyperspeed. </p><p>The last thing Chan felt was Felix’s hand leaving his wrist, cutting his last tether to consciousness. </p><p>So Chan fell, and kept falling. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Denouement</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>"... in a dramatic work, [denouement] is the falling action after the climax, the unwinding of the complications of the plot." </p><p>Felix said nothing as the cold air rushed in to smother Chan’s fresh wound. </p><p>Felix always let pain speak first. </p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Please note that this chapter contains graphic depictions of injury.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> “Morals are for little people.”  </em>
</p><p>Jenny Holzer </p><p>
  <em> “Your sensitivity is another’s arousal.” </em>
</p><p>Cassandra Troyan </p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>        1:00AM / S9N8S: Is he knocked out right now? </p><p>        1:02AM / Moderator: yep </p><p>        1:04AM / S9N8S: Awesome </p><p>        1:06AM / Moderator: we’re gonna try something a little different tonight </p><p>Felix used the sleeve of Chan’s sweatshirt to wipe the laptop webcam clean before walking towards the back of the storage unit. Pulling the oversized hoodie over his head, he tossed it onto the tiled floor and stretched his arms up toward the ceiling. He allowed his sinewy body to extend until the printed waistband of his Calvin Klein boxers materialized above the edge of his dark jeans. He let out a lilting, exaggerated moan, not because the motion felt particularly good, but because he knew it’d draw a reaction. </p><p>        1:10AM / 974ANL: Damn has he gotten hotter since the last show? </p><p>Ambling towards one of the workbenches, he grabbed the beige henley that he’d been wearing earlier. Before he had unlocked the storage unit and dragged Chan inside, he’d dropped the limp body to strip and roll the fabric of his own shirt in a patch of dirt. It was unbelievably easy to play the victim, especially with Chan. Yes, Felix had too much pride to take Chan’s charity, but internally, he was never even<em> nearly </em> as angry as he’d act whenever he was offered money by Chan. </p><p>In the storage unit, time became indefinite. It was an unending ring where minutes were measured in marrow. Felix remembered the first show. He was sloppy, it was too quick. Not enough wounds, not enough bone showing. </p><p>The viewers wanted the body to look unfixable. So, the viewers were disappointed. </p><p>The second time around, he’d done better. For the big finale, he bludgeoned the boy (Hyunjin, from his study group) with a rock he’d found in the parking lot. His head went concave. The gesture was very Old Testament, but when the rock connected to his temple, Felix told himself it was out of mercy. He still had mercy, then. </p><p>Mercy was pity’s naive predecessor. </p><p>The dent in the boy’s head looked cartoonish. After the stream ended, he had cradled the misshapen corpse for about twenty minutes and then went to the 24-hour Dunkin’ Donuts to study for one of his finals. He had to stop picking such beautiful people. </p><p>The distance between individual victims closed as Felix gave in to patterns. Every mashed-in face began to blend together in an Impressionist style, a sort of fucked-up piece in desperate shades of deep pink. </p><p>Felix suspected that this side project was making him an even better med student. In general, it was easier to understand bodies that weren’t bound by skin or breath. </p><p>When he had someone in the storage unit, he could walk his fingers along their exposed arteries. Slick, red roads that led the way to a rhythmless heart. The skin flaps that he’d cut away from their chest would lay flat, open like the wings of a preserved butterfly. </p><p>It wouldn’t be enough to just dissect Chan’s body. Felix wanted to dissect his ego, too. </p><p>Felix had started the latter part of this dissection early on in their friendship. Chan was easy to read, he never obscured his feelings, and he always let the world know when he was dissatisfied. Felix predicted that this trait was part of Chan’s inheritance, filed somewhere in between a beach house in Fiji and his evident daddy issues. Chan had no reason to hide what he wanted, because in the end, he usually received it. </p><p>So when Felix caught Chan watching him, he gave in. A little. </p><p>Felix would place his small hand on Chan’s ruddy knee in the basement of the library. He’d lean in when the two of them spoke to each other, till he was close enough to smell the tacky Versace cologne that wafted from the collar of Chan’s navy polo. When they went out, when Felix was feeling <em> extra </em>nice, he’d flick his hazy eyes away from Seungmin’s soft mouth and look for Chan.</p><p>And Chan would <em> always </em> look back at him. Alcohol magnified his envy.  </p><p>Felix enjoyed the childish little scowl that would etch itself into Chan’s face.</p><p>Stupid voyeur. </p><p>As soon as Felix knew that he’d effectively frustrated Chan, he would return his attention to Seungmin and sloppily run his tongue around the perimeter of his hookup’s lips. That was usually enough to get Chan to glance somewhere else and pretend nothing was happening.  </p><p>Every aspect of designing Chan’s setup was fun, but Felix’s favorite detail was deciding to borrow Chan’s notes. He knew asking for them would make Chan feel smart, useful. Special. In reality, Felix didn’t trust anyone else to take good notes, especially not Chan. His were incomprehensible. He had the penmanship of a serial killer. </p><p>Felix’s intentions were to get a sample of Chan’s handwriting. After scanning the papers onto his laptop, he immediately burned them over his sink and washed the ashes down the drain. “Chan, I’m so sorry, I lost your notes! Thank you for helping me, though,” Felix had apologized, focusing intensely on wrinkling his brow to maintain the act of sincerity. </p><p>In the calico light of his thrifted desk lamp, his laptop screen emanating an oceanic glow, Felix drafted the counterfeit goodbye note: </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Everyone,  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>                I’m taking a gap year. The pressure’s been a lot. Please forgive me.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Be back soon, </em>
</p><p><em> Chan </em> </p><p> </p><p>The letter was a bare minimum sort of thing - minimal effort - but Felix didn’t want to risk taking creative liberties or making Chan sound any smarter than he actually was. It got the job done, and that was about it. Chan wasn’t worthy of a sensible explanation, and neither were his parents. If Felix were lucky, Chan’s father wouldn’t even question his son’s disappearance. Chan’s body wouldn’t be found, and everyone would go to their graves thinking he salvaged his nest egg and started a new life in Belize or something. </p><p>While waiting for Chan to wake up, Felix reflected on the stream that made him the most money to date, squeezing his legs together on the fold-up chair. </p><p>Felix had met Changbin on Tinder. They went for coffee. They fucked. </p><p>A series of little deaths, followed by a significantly bigger one. </p><p>Felix played with the thought of placing ‘sex’ and ‘death’ into a Venn diagram. Heavy breathing, lungs that couldn’t get oxygen. Fluids. Throats open and red, Venus fly traps. So natural. The chat went crazy when Felix had led resilient, broad Changbin into the storage unit. </p><p>A disoriented lion, piloted by a lamb. </p><p>He had chosen to play the charismatic camboy card, explaining shyly after a few dates that he did little shows on the Internet in order to pay for medical school. This statement wasn’t a total lie, but it was more appetizing than telling Changbin the entire truth. Inviting Changbin to guest star on his channel wasn’t a difficult task. Felix could be very persuasive. </p><p>       2:20AM / S9N8S: They look so good together </p><p>       2:31AM / Moderator: don’t we? he’s so big </p><p>       2:33AM / User S9N8S sent 3.12 XMR </p><p>“They said we look good together, Changbin,” Felix announced charmingly, throwing a subtle wink at the camera before walking away from his laptop. He slid onto Changbin’s lap and fished a set of no-nonsense handcuffs from his back pocket.</p><p>       2:35AM / DC4I9: This is new </p><p>       2:36AM / S9N8S: 2 in 1 stream maybe? Lol </p><p>Changbin’s ski mask offered him anonymity, but it rendered him bewildered and off-balance. Poised like a cobra, Felix stroked his cheek. Changbin’s mouth dropped open of its own accord and Felix fed him a finger, rubbing tenderly across his back molars. </p><p>“Be very, very still for me. Can you do that? Can you stay still?” </p><p>Changbin nodded. </p><p>He probably would have smiled, too, if Felix wasn’t playing with his teeth. </p><p>Felix pressed his thumb down on Changbin’s tongue, feeling spit well up and wet his nail. Sometimes, Felix had to confirm that this was all real. Sometimes, it felt clinical, animatronic. Reminding himself of the fact that Changbin was alive would compel him to move with less precision and more sensuality. It took awhile for him to decide if he wanted the audience to see Changbin’s face as he died. </p><p>“Do you like it from the front or from the back, Changbinnie?” </p><p>“From the back,” Changbin whispered as Felix shifted in his lap, his hips fluid and brash, rolling up to meet with Changbin’s crotch. Felix granted him a deep, full kiss that lasted too long. Standing and strolling behind the chair, Felix gracefully wrapped his small hands around Changbin’s thick neck. He would have passed out much faster if Felix had gone from the front, but if he wanted it from the back, Felix would indulge him. But first, restraint. </p><p>       2:40AM / 974ANL: What did I miss? Sry I’m late, wife was bothering me /: </p><p>       2:41AM / S9N8S: You just missed the foreplay don’t worry haha </p><p>Felix heard Changbin’s breath catch in his throat when the chilly cuffs clicked around his wrists. The crisp sound of metal-on-metal had a sense of finality, a machinelike exhale that twinned with Changbin’s thick gasp. </p><p>       2:43AM / User 974ANL sent .52 XMR </p><p>       2:43AM / DC4I9: Wow kinda frugal tonight 974</p><p>       2:44AM / 974ANL: Had to pay kid’s college tuition today </p><p>For a moment, Felix watched the chatroom buzz, the rows of neon text stacking up on top of each other. He took a second to roll up the bottom of Changbin’s ski mask, pressing a hurried kiss to the nape of his neck. He held his lips there for a while, trying to see if he could feel life thrum beneath Changbin’s skin. There was nothing, just a tinge of sweat. </p><p>He repositioned his hands around Changbin’s throat and began to squeeze. He would have liked to tuck his chin over one of Changbin’s shaking shoulders, maybe even mic him up, amplifying his little squirrelly noises. It wouldn’t be worth the handiwork, though, considering Changbin only struggled for about seven seconds before unconsciousness approached. </p><p>It was a nice seven seconds, though. Maybe Felix could do an instant replay sort of thing, a greatest hits compilation. Changbin had struggled, almost toppled from the chair after realizing Felix didn’t intend to loosen his grip. They both nearly fell over as a result of Changbin’s thrashing - thankfully, the cuffs leveled the playing field. An elfish smile creeped up Felix’s face and settled comfortably in his eyes when Changbin’s strong legs started kicking, beating at the air. Like he was swimming. </p><p>Changbin’s masked face tilted back in defeat. </p><p>Unconsciousness was a middle ground; they still had minutes to go before reaching their destination. Felix briefly rested his head on top of Changbin’s scalp, squinting to peer at the miniature version of himself caged inside the laptop screen. His work was not done.</p><p>Back to squeezing. <em> There was no sword in the hand of David</em>. </p><p>       2:46AM / User S9N8S sent 4.7 XMR </p><p>“He’s still alive,” Felix announced. It was a little annoying to have to hold his viewers’ hands through the strangulation process, but he didn’t expect his audience to know much about choking someone to death. That was the reason they tuned in; to witness it. To <em> see </em>. To watch.</p><p> Right now, Changbin was at death’s entrance, and Felix was ushering him in. He couldn’t see much of Changbin’s skin, but he figured by now it would be tinted a shade darker from the lack of oxygen. This was going to take a while. </p><p>Changbin smelled like cloves, fragrant and domestic. The scent seemed to be weaved into him. “He was a <em> really </em> good lay, guys.” It was an oddly romantic statement that he punctuated with a regretful sigh. Felix didn’t like to hand compliments out on stream, but Changbin warranted at least one. </p><p>       2:48AM / User RXMOX sent 2.25 XMR </p><p>       2:48AM / User 7VRBC sent 1.7 XMR </p><p>“Should we play dentist once he’s all gone? Send three for yes, one for no.” Felix’s voice was flirty and birdlike; he sounded more like a phone sex operator than a reaper. This tone was especially effective on the closeted businessmen who populated his streams. </p><p>Felix had set his mind on playing dentist since he’d first put his fingers in Changbin’s mouth, but perpetuating an illusion of choice had a calming effect on the people who were new to the chatroom. It made them feel like they weren’t <em> completely </em> morally bankrupt. Feelings could be illusory, too. </p><p>       2:50AM / User RXMOX sent 1 XMR </p><p>       2:51AM / User S9N8S: What the fuck RX! </p><p>       2:51AM / User RXMOX sent 3 XMR </p><p>By now, Changbin’s organs were shutting down, accompanied by an orchestra of notifications. With six minutes having passed, Felix decided that Changbin’s time was up, letting go of his neck and watching his head settle. Perfectly limp. </p><p>“Next time, I’ll get the pliers out earlier,” Felix promised, petting Changbin’s scalp. He sauntered to his worktable, offscreen, but adjacent to the shitty folding chair. Felix seized the largest, most dramatic pair of forceps from the curated selection of creepy, old-school dental tools he’d bought on eBay. The execution was over, but <em> the show </em> was not. </p><p>He decided to yank one of Changbin’s back teeth first, twisting his wrist with the elegance of a child throwing a tantrum. Felix made a gleeful noise when he ripped it out, feeling a pleasant twinge when it disconnected from the root. A soupy streamer of blood followed the extraction, dribbling over Changbin’s lower lip. </p><p>Felix used his free hand to navigate the spitty socket left behind in Changbin’s mouth, clutching the pair of forceps with the other. “I wonder what these holes would feel like…” he trailed off, plunging his pinky into the empty spot in Changbin’s gums, feeling the marshy socket swell. </p><p>“Imagine,” he trailed off, letting his finger rove further back to press down on Changbin’s limp tongue. Felix straightened up, hovering over Changbin to stare down the narrow tunnel of his throat. The audience, collectively, had a good imagination. Plenty of Felix’s favorite kills had been inspired by hastily-typed messages: <em> waterboard him, fuck his face with a knife,</em> <em>skin him alive</em>. </p><p>Felix ripped another one of Changbin’s molars out, delighted. Immediately, he fit his finger into the hole left behind. Blood seeped out from Changbin’s gums, a wet sensation that almost ushered a moan out of Felix. Changbin’s mouth was beginning to look like a graveyard. </p><p>       2:57AM / User S9N8S: Wow, he really likes this, I’ve never seen him this excited </p><p>A buzzer sounded from Felix’s laptop. “Aw, hour’s up.” Felix placed his forceps in Changbin’s lap and brought his own bloodied palms to his face, pressing them into his cheeks and making a cute, squishy little face for the camera. He approached the table and leaned down to smile at his screen; his crowded chatbox, his audience, his earnings. </p><p>“See you next time,” he whispered, and blew a kiss, staining his lips rose-red when he brought his hand to his mouth. </p><p>Felix wasn’t sad when the streams ended, but he wasn’t happy either. He was mostly just… a special flavor of tired. After each session, his shoulders sagged and his entire body reeked of a uniquely metallic odor. Still, he never left the shed right away, though. He’d check how much money he’d made and log in to ProtonMail to send the numbers to himself. He’d read through the chat, as stuffed as it was with sugary compliments. </p><p>There was something electrifying about knowing so many people were jerking off to Felix’s acts of brutality. There was something erotic about being able to exercise practiced and pristine control over life and death and sex, three things he’d always have a market for. </p><p>Back then, it felt too intimate to look inside of someone on stream. After he’d closed his TOR browser, he took his scalpel out of his backpack and drew a long line down the center of Changbin’s torso. He carved little symbols on his chest, his abs, watching the skin unfurl as he sliced through it. Pulling Changbin’s ski mask off, Felix waited for the wounds to yawn wider. </p><p>He tipped Changbin’s head back and looked inside his mouth. He’d had a nice smile. His teeth would come to rest in an empty bottle of Advil, undisturbed at the bottom of Felix’s sock drawer. The inside of Changbin’s body was an engorged garden, drenched in crimson. His interior tubes had gentle, curved mouths, which gave them the appearance of wilted tulips. Felix had opened him up carefully, like a locket. </p><p>Method didn’t<em> really </em> matter. Everyone was the same. </p><p>He never ended up rewatching the stream with Changbin. He didn’t rewatch any streams. </p><p>Felix was the medium through which violence moved, and when things were done, they were done. He was a storyteller who told each story exactly once. </p><p>It was time to tell. The scene began. Chan had finally woken up, and he was situated on a stage with an invisible audience. “Felix,” Chan murmured. “Felix.” The mics weren’t high-quality enough to pick up Chan’s whispers, but he didn’t know that he was performing yet. </p><p>“Chan? Chan, oh, God, what happened?” Felix writhed, his fake cuffs clanging brightly against the metal folding chair. He was out of the camera’s eye; Chan was dead-center. Felix intended to profit from his dread. </p><p>Chan exhaled. “I don’t know. I don’t fucking know. We’re going to figure it out, though. What do you remember?” </p><p>“Just… falling. I think I hit my head, Chan. Where are we?” He’d practiced for this: channeling the innocence of Alice in Wonderland and the mania of a hypothermic shipwreck victim. Infusing his voice with fear and a few muted notes of wonder, Felix began to blubber. He’d cried in the mirror plenty of times. Tragedy wasn’t hard to rehearse. </p><p>Felix quietly clicked the remote sheltered in his palm and the creaky speech began. </p><p>
  <em> “YOU HAVE BEEN BROUGHT HERE TO BE SLAUGHTERED.” </em>
</p><p>“Let us go!” Chan had already devolved into panicked shouting, his voice cracking about halfway through his impassioned plea. Felix bit his shirt collar to muffle a laugh. On a subconscious level, Chan was convinced he was some sort of martyr. Felix wondered if he was scared for his own life yet, or if he was simply crusading on Felix’s behalf. </p><p><em> “YOU HAVE BEEN BROUGHT HERE TO BE SLAUGHTERED.” </em>The grating, robotic chant continued, screeching out from the host of shitty speakers placed strategically around the storage unit. Felix only had to run his lines through a few choice audio filters before his identity was adequately disguised. Jisung’s swift lesson on voice modification proved to be useful. The funniest part of the entire interaction was the fact that Jisung genuinely believed Felix when he insisted that he wanted to try producing. </p><p>As if. Felix knew where the money was. He’d found his gift. Felix would have to take care of Punnett, though, after all of this. Jisung couldn’t survive as a single parent. </p><p>“Slaughtered?” Felix cried, punctuating his peaking question with another determined thrash against his restraints. He had to run his thoughts through a sieve before speaking, draining them of all sarcasm and pretense. He wanted Chan to buy it. All of it. </p><p>‘Slaughtered’. A visceral, weighted word. ‘Slaughter’, more involved than ‘kill’. </p><p>‘Slaughter’ implied a deliberate choice. </p><p>Chan wouldn’t be able to strongarm his way out of zipties. This was the killing ground. </p><p>“Chan, we’re gonna die here,” Felix bawled, “we’re going to die.” And Felix continued to repeat this statement, hoping the weight of it would crush a confession out of Chan. He let his lips wobble, his body shake, and in return, he felt Chan’s back heave. His resolve could have been endearing, but it wasn’t.  </p><p>Chan was still doing it, this posturing, <em> for Felix</em>, constructing and reconstructing his macho front in the face of danger. This wasn’t <em> Chan’s </em>performance, why couldn’t he get that?</p><p>Felix converted another laugh into a choked sob: “Chan, <em> stop</em>.” </p><p>“Why? Felix, we’ve gotta get out of here,” he wriggled against the hemp rope cutting into his midsection, jutting his bound hands forward. Then, he stopped, letting breath creep out of him as he fumbled for a phrase. </p><p>He let his head fall back and rested it in the shallow cove between Felix’s neck and shoulder: “Felix, I love you.” </p><p>Perfect. This was going to be Felix’s most lucrative stream yet. </p><p>Felix unclasped his fake handcuffs and stood from his chair, smiling patiently as he walked into Chan’s line of vision. </p><p>“You do?” </p><p>       1:33AM / 5E9W9: wow you had him fooled </p><p>       1:36AM / 974ANL: Yeah definitely Oscar worthy </p><p>Chan’s face decomposed as soon as the first laugh bubbled up from Felix’s crowded lungs. Now, he’d met Felix twice. </p><p>       1:38AM / RXMOX: It’s always great when they know each other </p><p>Felix continued to chuckle, debating whether or not to launch into an ‘I know what this looks like’ lecture with the sole intention of blurring the situation further. Chan didn’t even look scared anymore, he just appeared profoundly confused, like he was trying to read the wrinkles in Felix’s forehead to make sense of things. Giving a heavy sigh, Felix ambled away from his captive and groaned fussily to his laptop, letting the digital crowd know that he was equally exhausted with his bound victim. </p><p>“<em>This </em> is one of my classmates,” Felix began, jerking a thumb behind him, towards an immobilized Chan, “he’s been into me for a long time.” </p><p>Felix looked back, graciously returning his attention to Chan: “he likes to watch me. When I’m at parties, while I study, when I sleep. He’s really big on <em> watching</em>.” Felix’s point was sound; currently, Chan’s eyes were as big as dinner plates, round and doelike as they traced Felix’s path, raked over his small lips. Chan was searching for familiarity in this version of Felix but found very little. “Now it’s his turn to be watched.” </p><p>“Is this a joke?” It wasn’t. Felix ignored him. </p><p>“Felix, why are you doing this?” If Chan didn’t know already, he didn’t deserve to. </p><p>Shaking his head gently, Felix - the ringmaster, the commentator, the escort - turned his back to the audience and pulled his knife free from the little sheath on his belt. He made sure the camera got a view of the weapon first, and then promptly showed it to Chan. “Remember when you got me <em> this</em>?” </p><p>Chan gritted his teeth. </p><p>Light drenched the agate handle and slid down to soak the blade. </p><p>The metal winked at Chan. </p><p>He was in shock, maybe, his mouth cemented shut in panic. Chan had never been this quiet before, or this thoughtful. </p><p>“Okay, how about this, everybody,” Felix mused, “three per finger. I think that’s fair.” </p><p>       1:40AM / 5E9W9 sent 6XMR </p><p>“There are about two hundred pain receptors for every centimeter of skin. The acuity for pain on the fingers is very high.” Felix’s lecture led Chan to writhe with more resolve. The storage unit teemed with doom - a perfectly cultivated environment. </p><p>“Felix, what the fuck,” Chan’s voice pitched up into a cry as Felix grabbed Chan’s hand by the wrist and deftly sliced his thumb and pointer fingers, clean at the knuckles. They bounced off of the floor. </p><p>Felix said nothing as the cold air rushed in to smother Chan’s fresh wound. </p><p>Felix always let pain speak first. </p><p>Only when Chan’s sharp cry had subdued to hushed hyperventilation had Felix decided to talk. “Thank you, Five-E. Starting things off right. What do you guys think of the knife?” He approached the laptop and showed the audience his implement. </p><p>“Hurts,” Chan wailed, staring lucidly at the empty space where his fingers had been. </p><p>“I didn’t ask you.” Felix turned the knife over to display the dainty drops of blood that had bravely clung to the blade. “It’s pretty, isn’t it?” </p><p>       1:43AM / 5E9W9 sent 3XMR </p><p>“Ah.” Felix turned on his heel and quickly grabbed Chan’s lumpy hand, bringing the knife down hard to cut his thumb off. Another nub tumbled to the ground, but not before balancing precariously on Chan’s bloodstained thigh. Chan heaved. </p><p>Chan didn’t know that truth was malleable, just like Chan didn’t know Felix. He had constructed a false god in the form of an eccentric, down-to-earth med student-slash-camboy who laughed at his jokes and stroked his ego. An imaginary friend. </p><p>Now, reality was in front of Chan, and it was holding a knife, and it was dismembering him. “Your bones are sticking out,” Felix commented, pointing at the hint of white emerging from the leftover flesh hanging off of Chan’s hand, “they like bones.” </p><p>       1:44AM / RXMOX: He looks like a ken doll </p><p>       1:45AM / RXMOX: You should cut his cock off </p><p>Felix glanced back to the laptop, squinting to read the newest messages. “Oh, that’s good. You guys have the best ideas.” </p><p>“How much is his dick worth? Ten? Ten and I’ll castrate him.” </p><p>       1:45AM / S9N8S sent 10XMR </p><p>       1:45AM / RXMOX sent 10XMR</p><p>       1:46AM / 974ANL sent 10XMR </p><p>Chan heard the notifications; three consecutive beeps, the first third of an S.O.S. </p><p>He screamed. </p><p>“That’s what I thought.” Felix let the knife clatter to the floor and meandered away to grab his tray of medical equipment. He’d never actually performed a castration, but he’d seen enough videos online to figure it out. Plus, that would probably make for a better show, anyway. Felix decided to just focus on having fun. </p><p>No gloves, no gown, just a scalpel and a smile. Roughly, Felix undid Chan’s fly, pulling his cock out of his boxers and pretending to marvel at it. “I expected... more.” Somehow, Chan still managed to conjure a disappointed face. “What? I did,” Felix confirmed solemnly, “this is disappointing. You’re… half the size of Seungmin.” </p><p>Chan groaned, low: a hybrid noise of unfiltered agony and pure embarrassment. </p><p>“What? Did I hit a nerve?” Felix made a minute incision in Chan’s scrotum to separate his balls, causing him to twitch and snort with distress. “Chan, I need you to calm down.” </p><p>He didn’t. He let out another boundless, animalistic yell, so Felix cut again, blood licking at his rusted scalpel. He separated out the urethra. Felix was beginning to confuse the steps of the surgery, but it was difficult to focus while Chan was howling to his uncaring crowd. Felix moved halfway up Chan’s shaft to cut again, exposing the pinkish, fleshy inside of his cock. He snipped up to the head, the outer skin falling away and leaving behind a thin and mucousy column. </p><p>Felix figured it’d be fruitless to close the wound, so he took a moment to appreciate it. The performative mess he’d made. The milky white-red flesh of Chan’s mutilated cock laid lifeless against his thigh.</p><p>“Do you know how much money you just made me?” </p><p>Chan didn’t respond. Finally, he was submerged in shock. Deep, claustrophobic shock.</p><p>“You just paid off next year’s tuition for me, Chan. Everyone, say thank you.” </p><p>The burdensome choir of notifications sounded off as Felix returned to Chan’s front, where his destroyed, cut-up cock lay limp against the chair. Plucking the knife off of the ground, Felix sliced through the center of Chan’s shirt and immediately dug the blade into Chan’s pale stomach. “This is gonna - gonna take a second,” Felix muttered. </p><p>Chan gurgled throatily as Felix drove the knife deeper, carving an endless circle into Chan’s abdomen. This was the last thing he would feel. Felix looked into his glassy, dismal eyes and he smiled: a final present to Chan, for all of the night’s hard work, the only important work Chan had done in his sad, obsessive little life. </p><p>“Thank you,” Felix whispered, and yanked the knife free, a kinetic gush of blood following it. Felix stood back, deciding to block most of Chan’s body from the webcam’s view. He wasn’t sure if the audience deserved to see him <em> die</em>. Felix quickly decided that was a gift he wanted to save for himself. </p><p>And so Chan’s life drained out through his hands, through his stomach. Through all the new holes that Felix had gifted him. </p><p>Below the neck, Chan looked like everyone else Felix had done away with. Something human-adjacent, its skin cracking like an old relic. Felix turned. He approached his laptop, waved goodbye to his audience, and clicked the button to end the stream. </p><p>Each iteration of this narrative had the exact same ending. In all of the possible worlds where Chan and Felix coexisted, there was no courtship, no marriage, no two-and-a-half kids. </p><p> </p><p>Just this:</p><p> </p><p>Felix plunged his knife through the center of Chan’s palm and lovingly maneuvered the speared hand over Chan’s chest, piercing down, pushing through his shirt, then into his skin, then into the space between his ribs. </p><p> </p><p>Chan’s hand, marbled with veins, was pinned over his heart. The agate handle of the blade protruded garishly. </p><p> </p><p>The center of the universe. </p><p> </p><p>For a while, he just sat across from Chan’s corpse. A director and an actor. </p><p>His lumpy form was a collage of blood and muscle and bone. His posture was shit, even in death. His head lolled awkwardly against his shoulder, but his mutated hands were laid politely on his thighs. They resembled gloves. </p><p>Felix never really got used to the eyes. When Chan was alive, his lids looked a lot like parchment paper. They wrinkled when he got migraines. </p><p>Now, everything was just plain skin; it didn’t belong to anyone. There were no memories embedded in it. And there were no soothing comparisons or suitable anecdotes that could lure Felix away from reality. </p><p>Chan had been alive and loud, and now he was dead and quiet. That was all there was.</p><p>Felix got tired of the rigged staring contest and returned to his computer. </p><p>As he was scrolling through the chatroom history, his laptop died. </p><p>The blank screen functioned as a mirror. Felix saw his own doll-like face looking back at him, anointed with blood. Behind his reflection, he saw Chan’s wilted figure. </p><p>Felix shut the laptop.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>comments and kudos are always appreciated! </p><p>feel free to contact me elsewhere:<br/>⚜  <a href="https://twitter.com/seungshibari">twitter</a><br/>⚜  <a href="https://curiouscat.me/seungshibari">curiouscat</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
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